


Night Troubles

by Santler



Category: APH - Fandom, Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Hetalia, M/M, aph
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-30
Updated: 2014-06-30
Packaged: 2018-02-06 19:17:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1869333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Santler/pseuds/Santler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alfred returns home from the Vietnam War, but suffers from PTSD, keeping him up at all night and Arthur can only comfort him until he’ll sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night Troubles

It was one of those nights where Alfred refused to sleep; being paranoid of the terrors of the dark and his own mind tormenting him from the horrific scenes of war. The first night home was absolutely fucking terrible for the both of them.

The screams and cries was a surprised to Arthur to find his lover back home from war, crying out to him in their shared bed (praise to god no one couldn’t hear them except for Kiku who was all too worried for his friends).

Alfred was sitting there, face buried in Arthur’s chest as he let out pained sobs with the images still flashing through his glossed eyes.

The faces of his friends.

Enemies.

Strangers.

The bodies.

 It all scared the poor boy to death and deprived him from sleep.

Now here he was sitting at the edge of the bed, looking at the ground as if it was going to solve all his problems; completely refusing the need to even sleep with his Arthur behind him not wanting to sleep until he was for sure that Alfred was going to lay down with him, close his eyes, arms wrapped around each other in a hold until a restless night may happen.

“Alfred, you’ll need to sleep sometime soon.” Arthur was the first one to speak in the silence of the bedroom. There was a shrug coming off from Alfred and he looked at the closed curtains almost reminding him in the lonely nights at basic training where everyone was thinking the same thing with the drill sergeant’s words screaming at them.

_You are born to kill._

_A marine is God’s ultimate killing machine._

_There is nothing worse than a dead marine._

“You need the sleep. You have classes tomorrow.” Alfred was always the one to think of others before him. He didn’t mean to make Arthur stay up for him, not wanting him to suffer the lack of sleep, because he was scared to do a simple thing like going to sleep with his lover where he shouldn’t be worry going back to the jungles where the Vietcong was watching every second of your moves and just waiting to kill you and your whole damn platoon, because they’re fighting on what they believe in, and you’re fighting for what you believe in for ideologies.

“You’re more important.”

Alfred finally gave in to Arthur’s request, making himself to lie down on the bed, close to the other male with arms encircling each other. Arthur could clearly see the tired eyes that he used to love. Now they were dull with the faces of war and took every aspect of the Alfred he knew and love. This Alfred was just –

Tired.

Scared.

Not the one who was full of life, smiling all the time, and laughing. This wasn’t his all American boy. 

Alfred was fighting a war inside himself and the only thing he could do was to fight along with him, hoping Alfred would return home.


End file.
